


the sun's zooming in

by madryn



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Post-Season/Series 04, Raven & Bellamy Friendship, The 100 Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 07:09:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11938941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madryn/pseuds/madryn
Summary: "I can't remember," Bellamy gasped out, his pupils blown and his gasps labored. His next breathe was quicker, shorter, more frantic; he could not, he could not remember. He remembered the feeling of soft curves beneath his fingertips and the soft caress of golden waves whispering against his cheeks and his lips, but he could not remember. "Raven, please, Raven. I can't- I can't remember the color of her eyes."





	the sun's zooming in

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of an edit on Twitter. If I can find it, I'll link it!
> 
> Title from London Calling by The Clash.

The glass bottle of Monty's special moonshine hit the ground with a resounding crash as the impact shattered the old opaque glass. It had survived two apocalypses, yet finally succumbed to its demise after one miniscule drop.

The bottle lay unrecognizable on the cold, metal flooring of the spacecraft. The pieces were shattered and jagged, broken and irreparable. Maybe the bottle was a metaphor for the man; maybe, after all he had been through, all it took for him to shatter was one tiny event, one miniscule detail in the history of the planet.

No, not to him. It was not a miniscule event to him. To him, it was catastrophic. It was like Earth being hit with a meteor, or a tsunami crashing over a defenseless city. Catastrophy. Is that not what love is? Ever changing and extreme? An event that changes a person to their very core?

Tiny crescent moons were pressed into the man's palms as his eyed looked out, unseeingly, to the tiny twinkling stars. 

(And Earth, but thinking about what occurred on Earth led to too many dark memories: too many thoughts of her.)

Her. His thoughts were led astray; a faceless woman danced at the edge of his mind, her shining hair twirling into a halo of light and her eyes, her eyes-

Bellamy's mind was too hazy, floundering and searching through the drunken haze of ideas and feelings and emotions for one specific nuance of information was too difficult. And it hurt him; it hurt him to sit in front of a window showcasing the scene of how he had been too selfish to wait. Maybe he had been to selfess? Too selfless to save one of the only two things that had ever truly mattered to him. And, well, he had left both of them behind.

Selflessness was fucking distasteful.

He should be grateful. Grateful that he and his friends were safe in space with a plan to go back to Earth once it was safe. Grateful that his sister and his people and all of the people were safe down in the bunker. But, God. 

Bellamy was not religious, but he found himself praying. 

He prayed that she was safe, that Clarke had someone found a way to survive a fucking apocalypse; that Clarke had survived the single thing that could wipe out everything. If there was a God he would rant and scream and spit and curse the heavens for harming the one person that had always been there for him and everyone else. The one person who never had her own safety in mind - only chose what was best for her people. 

She was Atlas, condemned to hold the world upon her shoulders for all of eternity.

He was Atlas, condemned to hold the weight of her undeserving death upon his shoulders for all of eternity.

By God, Bellamy would have done anything to save her. The strength that it took for him to close to hatch, barring her from safety and effectively killing her? It was a strength Bellamy wished he had not possessed. Wished instead that he had gone with her to the tower. Wished that if she were destined to die, then he had gone, too. Is that not what he was? A knight whose only goal was to protect his queen? 

They needed her, up here. More than they needed Bellamy. Maybe, maybe he could have been more help. He could have been more help if he had not shattered like the glass of alcohol that hazened his mind and erased the memories that so plagued him.

Erased.

What were the color of Clarke's eyes?

The emotions that rushed up upon Bellamy in that moment shook him to his very core. He was shaking, his fingers digging so deeply into his palm that they were nearly white with lack of blood and too much pressure. He was shaking as tears dripped from his widened eyes; Bellamy's jaw loose and unhinged as he took in gaping, sporadically breathes, but each time struggled to get in enough oxygen to settle his raging pulse.

His pulse was too loud in his ears to hear the footsteps thumping up behind him; his eyes fixated on a point of the Earth in which he had left too much behind. 

"Bellamy?" Her voice broke the tense silence of the room, her bright eyes staring at him in something less than concern, but something more than nonchalance. This was a common occurrence, by now. 

"I can't remember," Bellamy gasped out, his pupils blown and his gasps labored. His next breathe was quicker, shorter, more frantic; he could not, he could not remember. He remembered the feeling of soft curves beneath his fingertips and the soft caress of golden waves whispering against his cheeks and his lips, but he could not remember. "Raven, please, Raven. I can't- I can't remember the color of her eyes."

Raven sighed, deeply; her shoulders slumped and her posture bent.

"You're drunk, Bellamy," She told him, pity flashing in her eyes. "You can't remember because you're drunk."

He looked at her, then. His deep brown eyes were pools of both sorrow and regret. A regret so deeply engrained into his being that it hurt to gaze into his eyes. Raven sighed, and hovered a hand over his shoulder.

"Please, Raven," He whispered, after a pause. Then, "Please just tell me."

She sighed, then. This was an occurrence that happened near weekly; Bellamy drank more than he could handle and the Space Kru worked tirelessly to both maintain order, fix their ship, and care for their leader. 

"Blue, Bellamy. Her eyes are blue." She spoke, tiredly.

"Were, Raven. Her eyes _were_ blue. They stopped being blue the moment we left her down there to die. The moment I left her down there to die." He was fully gasping, now. He stepped backwards with his admission, glass crunching beneath his thick, black boot. A ragged breath wracked his body, a full-shuddering thing that breathed life into his cells, but not into his heart. 

"Bellamy, please. You need to calm down lest you hurt yourself. She cared for you, you know. She wouldn't have wanted to sacrifice her life for ours if we were just going to waste it, you know." 

"You're right. Of course, you are right, Raven. Always have been the smartest of us, huh?" Bellamy's lips upturned a fraction of an inch and Raven let out a breath she had not recognized she was holding. 

"Of course I am, Blake. You would all be lost without my knowledge." With a smirk that she didn't really feel, Raven looped her arm through Bellamy's own, leading him back and away from the window and towards his room upon the Ring. "Get some sleep, Bellamy Blake. We have a big day tomorrow; this old hunk of metal is not going to fix itself."

"Yeah, you're right. Tomorrow."

It was a promise. A promise to remember Clarke's name and what she had done for them. What she always did for them. To save them. She deserved that, at least. If it was the last thing Bellamy could give to her, then he would do it.


End file.
